


Trust, or a Lack Thereof

by abbichicken



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, X-Men First Class Kink Meme, knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/pseuds/abbichicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, simple, knife!kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust, or a Lack Thereof

Charles shakes, silently, as the knife-tip juuust scratches a rapidly-pinking trail down his bare chest. The metal is cold, the excitement, anticipation, flooding him in waves of sweat and heat.

Even with his eyes closed, he can see flashes of himself through Erik's eyes, can feel Erik's arousal, and, worst - best? - of all, can taste Erik's dangerous lack of boundaries and proprietry.

"I can feel you," Erik says, from his seat across the room, where he is fully dressed, poised, composed, at that absolute edge of control, "in my head."

The knife twists and dances a curving stripe, and another.

Charles bites his lip.

"If you have carved a heart on my chest, Erik, even faintly, I shall find your most humiliating memories and play them out at you."

Erik smiles. "But how else would I show you how much I care?"

"I can't believe you," Charles says, largely to himself. He twists against the carpet, willing the knife to either cut or stop teasing, but never willing Erik to do a thing.

He arches up, pressing his body towards the metal, and Erik stops it, holds it still.

Charles presses up, up, imagining the point piercing him, imagining the vicious sensation as a kind of relief, wondering what it will do to Erik, who looks so unflustered, who feels so calm inside, calmer than he should, surely, at this stage of arousal, given that he's a raging mass of fuck knows what when so much as making tea.

Seeing this, Erik simply raises the blade accordingly.

"I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of securing you if I wanted you to play an active role in this. Charles, I don't need your gift to know that you want me to draw this out. Don't try and rush me."

So he doesn't. He waits and shakes and sweats and throbs in a mess of desire and nerves, and when the knife finally cuts him, it takes all his mental strength not to come instantly.

Erik is leaning forwards in the chair, at last looking more than aloof, and Charles stops looking in his mind now, couldn't concentrate anyway, doesn't want to see the things Erik sees in this, just to see Erik himself, lips parted, breaths shallow, biting his own tongue.

The knife whips and cuts again, long, shallow. Charles groans, growling, eyes rolling back, closing, concentrating then only on the feeling.

In a moment a cold flat line is across his throat.

"Eyes open," Erik says, there, suddenly, right above him when Charles obeys. Erik takes the knife in his hand, twirls it between his fingers. He presses the edge of the blade to Charles' naked shoulder, and makes a smooth, sleek incision.

"Why do you let me do this?" he asks.

Charles realises his instinct is to look into Erik's mind for the answer to that. Instead, he replies, "For the way you look at me when I let you take this much control."

"Let me?"

"Yes."

The knife flickers again, at Charles' collarbone.

"As if you could stop me?"

Charles smiles, breath coming in gasps now, every inch of his body shining with sweat where it isn't beaded with blood.

"What interests me most is whether or not you could stop yourself, Erik."

"I wish I had your gift, just for a moment."

"Why?"

"To understand how it is that you can make everything about me." Erik bends to kiss him, and, at the same time, presses the flat of the blade down against Charles' hipbone, other hand at his shoulder, pushing and pulling and bearing down all over him, tempting Charles to come.

Charles' eyes are shining as he locks them at Erik's gaze.

"I don't trust you. If I did, it wouldn't be any fun."

From the flashes that cross Erik's eyes, clear and obvious, and from the pressing against his thigh, Charles knows that he has the perfect measure of the man above him. He also knows that every time they do this, there is a risk. Each time, Charles surprises himself by how willing he is to take it.


End file.
